She smiled at the memory, and Hebe hugged her and wept a little, and told her how lucky she was to have found love, which she knew perfectly well. She was the luckiest girl alive.
***
Walter determined to take Winnie to see his father the very next day, but Lady Strong said stiffly that the carriage would not be available, nor could she chaperon Winnie that day.
“We can ride,” Winnie said at once. “We can take a groom for propriety, and the rain has stopped.”
“But everywhere will be a foot deep in mud,” Walter said. “We will not be fit to be seen.”
“Winnie would scarcely care about that,” Lady Strong said sourly.
“Nor would my father, but I care,” Walter said. “I hardly wish to present my future wife to my father liberally coated in mud. For a casual visit, perhaps, but this is a little different. We will go another day, when the carriage is available, and a lady is free to act the chaperon.”
“I do not know when it will next be free,” Lady Strong said. “With Hebe to leave us again before long, I have a number of outings planned.”
“Then I shall despatch a groom to Corland, and ask them to send a carriage for us. Winnie’s maid will have to keep us from scandal.”
It was Uncle Alfred who settled the matter in the end. “You may take my carriage, Walter. With the roof stowed, even my dear sister-in-law cannot possibly object. You can hire a couple of horses from the inn, since Kitty obviously needs her own carriage horses.”
Lady Strong sniffed, not mollified even by this consideration, but Walter merely smiled at her. He was smiling so much these days that his happiness spilled over even onto Lady Strong.
“Your mama disapproves of me, I think,” he said to Winnie, as the carriage rolled away from Birchall House.
“She disapproves of me, too, at the moment,” Winnie said easily. “Do you mind?”
“Not in the slightest. I do not mind anything very much just now.” He took her hand in his, then methodically peeled off first her glove and then his. “Ah, that is better. Your hand is so soft and warm.”
“My lips might be warm, too.”
He chuckled, but took the hint, and for a while there was silence within the carriage. Only when a particularly sharp jolt threw them apart did she laugh and say, “Perhaps it is not the best idea to arrive flushed and dishevelled.”
He sighed, but he could see the sense in it.
Simpson and Wellum met them in the entrance hall. “His lordship is in the drawing room, sir,” Simpson said, as Walter handed his hat and gloves to Wellum.
“The drawing room! What is he doing in the drawing room? Visitors?”
“Mr and Mrs George Atherton are with him, sir, as well as Miss Emily Atherton and Miss Penelope Atherton, and Mrs Vaughn.”
Mrs Vaughn? One of Mother’s list of prospective wives for his father, he thought.
“Miss Olivia is there, too, sir,” Simpson added.
MissOlivia! Walter had almost got used to the loss of his own title, but it was still a sharp wrench to remember that his sister was no longer Lady Olivia and must now face the prospect of finding a husband without either title or legitimacy.
“Well, let us go and tell them our news, shall we?” Walter said.
Winnie smiled up at him, and the affection in her eyes filled him with contentment. This was how a betrothal was supposed to be, a joy that was bone-deep and all-encompassing, filling every corner of his life, every waking moment. This was how it would be for the rest of their lives.
He tucked Winnie’s arm in his and turned to face his father.
33: A Betrothal Is Announced
It was not so easy, Winnie discovered, to announce that one is betrothed, not when the earl had guests, anyway. She and Walter were scooped up and led into the drawing room, glasses of something pushed into their hands, introductions made, chairs brought forward for them. Bemused, she obediently sat, and the group continued as if nothing had happened, effortlessly absorbing Winnie and Walter into the conversation. No one asked why they had turned up together, although curious glances were thrown their way. It was all very awkward, but Walter gave her a wry smile, which cheered her.
There was great interest in the recent visit to London, so for some minutes they both fielded questions about the journey, and then Walter’s visits to the Treasury and his prospects of obtaining a position there. Winnie had very little to say on that subject, so she quickly lapsed into silence. The earl smiled at her once or twice, and if he had been closer, she was sure he would have spoken to her, but he was across the room, being polite to Mrs Vaughn. Who was she? Probably some relation of MrsGeorge Atherton’s, whose house was filled every summer with relations from all over the north. The earl looked uncomfortable, and the lady not much more so, yet neither made any move to draw apart.
It was the strangest feeling to Winnie, sitting in the drawing room at Corland Castle as a guest, but knowing that one day in the future she would be a member of the family. The earl would be her father-in-law. Olivia, sulky and silent in a corner, would be her sister. Mr and Mrs George Atherton would be her aunt and uncle, and their daughters her cousins. It was soodd.She had been here many times over the years, and always as an outsider. Even in the early days of her love for Walter, when she had dreamed of marrying him and even imagined herself as the Countess of Rennington one day, it had never occurred to her that all these people would be her family, just as they were his.
